


Half Life VR but the AI were Left 4 Dead

by Livvy_london



Category: Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware, Left 4 Dead (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Green Flu (Left 4 Dead), Guns, Inspired by Left 4 Dead (Video Games), More canon characters will appear much later, Zombie Apocalypse, i will tag them when they show
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25782427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livvy_london/pseuds/Livvy_london
Summary: At the eve of the zombie apocalypse, Gordon Freeman knows one thing - he must make it south to get to his son Joshua, no matter what it takes.Based on the Left 4 Dead 2 storyline. You don’t even need to know anything about the L4D games to read this (or even anything about HLVRAI really) - everything will be explained along the way :)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set to be a pretty long one - I’m describing things near the start to make sure all the references to L4D are explained clearly. It’s like slow-burn but without any strong shipping.  
> Thank you to everyone on the HLVRAIL4D discord that created this AU and supports everything I write for it. @subjectfreeman on tumblr started this whole thing and runs the server!  
> Without further ado, please enjoy :)

Stumbling off the pavement and over some debris that was scattered over the ground, Gordon Freeman made his way deeper into the city, backpack hefted over one shoulder. The heat was higher than typical for late September, but there weren’t sunbathers in the parks like would be expected: the streets were near-deserted, the only people being those brave enough to leave their homes to get to evacuation from The Green Flu.

The Green Flu. It had only been reported a week or so ago, but cases of it were sweeping across the nation. Martial law was imposed within the day and evacs were set up and leaving the first cities by the next morning. It was near apocalyptic, downing tv networks, power grids, and more as it went. It had to be incredibly contagious or dangerous to grind the nation to a halt like that - rumours flew online, wild claims from scared people boarded up in their homes, that the disease was making people go crazy. That it made them attack others mindlessly, almost like zombies. It was ridiculous.

The first report in Georgia came in the west early that morning, and planes of people were already flying south by midday. Gordon had left the dormitories of his research complex, along with some colleagues that he had managed to convince to tag along with him. 

However, they had split up not long after. They’d heard there was evac at the north of town, at the edge of Chatham Parkway, near the old hotel by the interstate. Punks on motorbikes, office workers, burly sportsmen and anyone who could, seemed to be gunning for the opposite direction than that which Gordon was jogging. 

Whatever... He knew where he needed to go. His mother’s house in the south of Savannah, to grab the car he’d parked there, then down to Pensacola to meet his ex and his son Josh. It was a long trip, 500 miles at least, but he knew he’d get there in time. He’d have to.

Gordon pressed on south, determined. The streets were only vaguely familiar - this was Tremont, an area of Savannah with a lot of nameless offices that Gordon had rarely, if ever, had the need to visit.

As he passed an alley between businesses, a low growl gave him pause. He peered into the dim light searching for the source of the noise. 

“Hello…?” He called cautiously. In the darkness, a glowing pair of eyes squinted back at him, way too big to be a cat’s. 

Suddenly, they rushed towards him, two arms reaching out. One hand swiped up, catching on the front of his shirt and pulling him forward. As he stumbled, another clawed down, scratching through the skin above his eyebrow. He shoved them away violently and his attacker stumbled back into the darkness. Gordon turned tail and ran, mind racing. _He’d only said hello to the guy, for God’s sake. What the hell had he done to deserve that?_

He wiped at the gash as he ran, which thankfully was only bleeding lightly. Distracted as he was, Gordon was almost sent tumbling down to the ground when he tripped over someone’s outstretched leg in the road. He recovered his step in time, and turned back to apologise or warn whoever he had disturbed.

However, the person he had fallen over was as still as death, and a quick glance confirmed that Gordon had just stumbled over a dead body. Still stunned at seeing the oozing corpse (in the middle of the fucking street, _what the hell_ ), Gordon spotted something in the dead man’s hand and he grasped for it. Held in his shaking hands, he recognised it quickly - a smooth black pistol.

An inhuman growl got suddenly louder and he frantically lifted the gun at the attacker who had followed him around the corner. He squeezed the trigger, and flinched violently at the sudden bang - opening his eyes again revealed that the other man was still bearing down on him. Startled, Gordon fired twice more, backing up quickly as the crazed man fell at his feet, unmoving. Breath still ragged, Gordon dropped the gun and flipped over the person he had just shot. 

The body looked something out of horror fiction, even ignoring the new gunshots in his chest ( _they made Gordon queasy just thinking about it_ ). Somehow Gordon hadn’t noticed in his fear, but his attacker was caked in blood, and from the gruesome wounds on their stomach and neck, it seemed that it was their own. The way they had moved earlier hadn’t been natural, nor were the crazy noise they’d made. Were the online rumours right? Was this Green Flu really the start of the _goddamn zombie apocalypse_?

Gordon shook his head, and stepped back to pick up the gun again. He barely knew a thing about how to handle it. It had been a miracle that safety had already been off when he picked it up - he would not have found it otherwise. The gunshots had been loud too and the first had definitely gone wide. He gingerly checked over the first corpse, patting him down to find another 2 sets of ammo. Gordon pocketed them, though he resolved to save his shots - he had no idea how to reload this thing or even any clue what was left in the current magazine.

Carefully, holding his pistol to the ground, Gordon skirted the edge of the block, keeping in the slight shade at the edge of the street. As he scanned the empty streets, his eyes landed on a hunched figure, stumbling confusedly in the center of the asphalt. He stepped forward to call out to the person, then the words caught in his mouth as they turned to him.

She looked horrific. Her flesh was grey and peeling, one eye missing and bleeding heavily, dripping down her face and off her chin. They were undoubtedly infected, just like the man Gordon had killed.

He backed up, breath catching as they paused grunting and wheezing. He must have been just out of her line of sight, because, although she spent a few moments _sniffing the air_ , she turned away, apparently disinterested. He cautiously crept away, continuing around the corner to come across a sparse group of infected shuffling in front of a wire gate. 

It looked like there was some kind of depot on the other side, and he could make out a long squat warehouse behind a wide truck bay. He could see just one white van parked in there, its back door left wide open. Some stained warning and keep-out signs were zip-tied to the fence, though from this distance, Gordon couldn’t make out exactly what they said. Infected wandered between the abandoned cars and overturned bins directly in front of him.

Whatever was on the other side of the gate looked promising, but, of course, the infected posed a problem. A brief look around didn’t present any other route around, but just as Gordon was going to turn back, he caught sight of a tall concrete tower poking out from the nearby buildings and overlooking the gate. A control tower of some kind? What could be in the depot to warrant _that_?

From the tower’s door, Gordon could see catwalks branching out, and he followed one with his eyes, seeing where it ended on the top of the building across the street. That was the way up then.

He crossed the road, ducking behind cars to keep out of sight, then climbed the access ladder up to the roof. It was clear of any infected, and almost flat, with only a small roof access shack that must house the staircase up from inside.

He checked his pistol as he crossed towards the catwalk, pressing buttons on his gun. He startled when the magazine fell out of the gun, just catching it before it hit the floor. So that was how to reload. Good. It looked as though there were still a few shots left. He put it back in, patting his pocket to make sure he still had the 2 refills.

  
A head suddenly popped out from behind the access staircase and it took all Gordon had not to fire immediately.

“Hello! Are you here to get past that horde down there?” They greeted loudly, pointing back at the way Gordon had come up.

“Uh, yeah,” he replied, uncertain about this stranger. They were shorter than him and stocky, with a head of grey hair, dressed in a surprisingly casual manner in a teal Hawaiian shirt and light cargo shorts. The older man shook his head,

“There’s no way past through here, but there are controls to open the gates. We were going to open them in just a few minutes. Want to help?”

“Sure,” Gordon replied, then he paused, “We?”

“Yep,” He said cheerily and waved for Gordon to follow. They took the last stairs then walked along the catwalk to the observation tower. There was another grey-haired man there - he wore a studded black leather jacket over a thick red knitted sweater. He had an unlit Molotov cocktail strapped to one hip and a thick pair of square glasses on the end of his nose.

“This is Bubby, and I’m Harold Coomer.”

“Who’s this?” The new stranger, Bubby, asked defensively.

“I’m Gordon Freeman.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 Expected date... 31st September ‘20.


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m Gordon Freeman. Coomer here said you’re opening the gate soon.” Gordon pointed towards the wire gate as he spoke.

“Yea, I guess you can say that,” Bubby grumbled, and Coomer enthusiastically thumped him on the back, causing the punk to stumble forward slightly.

“Don’t mind this grouch Gordon,” He smiled then gestured vaguely to the control panel and the darkened security monitors above, “We’ve figured out that this tower has controls to open the gate. There’s a power breaker down there. We can turn it on and it should have enough seconds of juice for one of us to open the gate from the control tower.”

“But knowing these things, it’s going to make a big racket,” Bubby added, rolling his eyes, “And with the zombies at the gate, whoever’s on the power switch is dead meat.”

“Bubby can man the switch and I’ll turn the power on but it would be great to have at least one more person to help fight the infected off. You’ll help, right?” He asked, with a confident shine in his eyes. Gordon hesitated for a moment, uncertain. _Was this the only way?_ He swallowed heavily, then nodded back to Coomer,

“Alright. Where’s this power switch?”

“You can’t see it from here but I’ll lead you down to it.” The old man told him. Gordon guessed he’d have to trust Coomer on that. He took one last look around the control room, eyes landing on an emergency fire axe, in a case by the doorway.

With a sharp hit from his elbow, the glass broke easily, and he reached for its handle. Hefting it out, he gave it a few test swings away from the others, feeling its weight, and nodded to himself. He managed to fasten it securely enough to his belt so that it wouldn’t hit him in the leg as he walked, and patted his puffer jacket’s pocket for his pistol. _Still there._

“One last thing,” Gordon interrupted as Coomer picked up his gun, “Are you sure there’s no way down to the ground on this side of the fence? Shouldn’t there be a catwalk leading to the warehouse?”

Coomer waved him over to the tower’s window. From there they could see the infected milling by the tall wire fence. He could also trace said catwalk to its jagged end near the lone white van, jutting out a good 30 feet high - the rest lay on the ground, twisting metal sticking up in all directions. If the drop didn’t break a leg, being impaled on the metal might kill him instead.

“Ok, yeah. I believe you now.”

“Ready to go yet? I’m going to _explode_ from anticipation.” Bubby called with a hint of irritation. 

The two crossed back to the rooftop staircase - the door was slightly ajar and they slipped in easily. They went down as far as the roof access would take them, stepping into a dimly lit corridor. Doors along the hallway were closed and, hearing the sound of scrabbling on the wood inside, Gordon didn’t dare open them to look. 

Near the end was an open kitchenette space, with a counter to lean on, a water cooler and a near-empty basket of fruit. A trio of people were milling inside, spinning quickly towards the survivors as they appeared. Bloodied faces and ragged shirts - infected. 

Pistol in hand, Gordon fired. One lucky shot nailed a zombie in the head while the rest either whacked into their chests or missed entirely. While two fell dead, Coomer leapt into the fight, socking the remaining zombie in the jaw. It was knocked to the ground, laying still while Coomer dusted off his hands. 

Gingerly stepping around their bodies, Gordon picked up a paper cup from the water cooler and filled it, downing it quickly. While the power had long cut out, the water had luckily kept its cool temperature. He filled it up again, sipping at the refreshing drink, slower this time.

“Gordon, is that really sanitary?” Coomer interrupted. Gordon looked at him, one eyebrow raised and his mouth full, “It could be contaminated. They never figured out how the Green Flu spread, you know.” The older man explained. Gordon looked down at his cup, already half-empty and swallowed.

“You didn’t think to mention that earlier?” He asked and Coomer simply shrugged, “Well…” He paused, then drank the rest, tossing his cup carelessly aside, “At least I’m not going to die thirsty.”

He stepped out of the kitchenette and Coomer followed, grabbing a tangerine, peeling it, then putting the whole thing in his mouth at once. Gordon didn’t have the energy to comment.

Finally, at the end of the corridor, the two opened the emergency exit door, greeted with another staircase down. They made their way to the ground floor, only coming across two more zombies on the stairway that were briskly punched to death.

The ground floor atrium was deserted, zombies just visible roaming outside through the glass front windows. Something on the receptionist’s desk caught Gordon’s eye and he approached to take a closer look - it was a small cardboard box, rammed full with ammunition of all shapes and sizes. _Who the hell had left this here?_ Coomer leaned over his shoulder, humming with appreciation.

“Nice find Gordon.” He complimented, then reached in with his free hand, expertly plucking out a fistful of shells for his shotgun.

“Do you know which-?” Gordon started, then trailed off as Coomer deftly picked out several magazines that he recognised as being the same as those already in his pocket. “Oh… Thank you.”

“No problem Gordon,” He gave the younger man a thumbs-up, “Let’s get going.”

Rather than take the front door right out into the swarm of zombies, Coomer led him across the ground floor, through back rooms to a side exit-door. Leaving the building behind, Coomer pointed to a spot across the road, close to the junction that Gordon had first arrived from.

They dashed back across the road, close to the ground and ducking behind cars to stay out of sight. As they reached the other side, Coomer took the lead, skirting around the infected and ducking into a side street. He slowed to a stop after a moment and turned back to Gordon.

“Here it is Gordon. The switch is in there.” Gordon followed Coomer’s gesture to a huge junction box jutting out of the ground. Its door was unlatched and opening it revealed a switch at chest level with a two-handed handle to pull on. The inside of the box was plastered with yellow electric hazard stickers but all the lights within were off. 

“Are you sure this will work?” Gordon asked and Coomer smiled back confidently. He stepped away, back to the entrance of the side street while Gordon stood before the huge breaker switch. They nodded to each other with grim smiles - Gordon heaved down on the switch with both hands until it finally clicked, starting up a low mechanical whirr that roused the zombies slowly with it. 

As lights blinked on in the junction box, he looked over at Coomer to see him raise a thumbs up towards the tower. They rushed out between the abandoned cars just as a loud whining klaxon rang out overhead and Gordon had to resist the urge to clap his hands over his ears.

Something hurtled down from above, shattering on the ground before Gordon’s feet. He skittered back, flames nipping at his toes as the alcohol on the ground ignited, sending the surrounding area into a roaring inferno.

He looked up to the observation tower in time to catch Bubby putting down his arm with a triumphant grin.

“Watch where you’re throwing that!” He screamed up at the old man, heart racing.

Flaming zombies stumbled out of the blaze, towards where Coomer and Gordon had begun beating them back.

“How about you watch where you’re standing!” Bubby’s distant voice yelled back.

The zombies’ growl grew into a deafening roar, even overpowering the wailing alarm as they rushed closer. Gordon shoved back a zombie that got too close, spotting Bubby sliding down a drainpipe to reach them on the ground, crushing a zombie underfoot as he fell. The gate was opening slowly and any infected within the depot were drawn by the commotion, adding to the burning bodies before the trio.

While the raging fire took care of anything coming from the front, more infected raced in from behind. Gordon fired his pistol in their direction, several shots going wide, whacking into the already damaged cars. It clicked empty and he ejected the empty cartridge, fumbling with the replacement. Coomer and Bubby picked up the slack in both directions as he reloaded. 

Coomer alternated between firing rounds of his shotgun and punching through any infected that got too close. While Bubby had no qualms firing rounds into the crowd while Coomer bobbed between them, Gordon was nervous about accidentally shooting the old man. He pocketed the pistol and unslung his axe to help deal with the stragglers coming in from the sides.

With a hefty two-handed swing, he cleaved the axe through two zombies’ chests. Blood sprayed out of them and splattered across Gordon’s vest, startling him. He swung the other way, catching another in the neck and sending its body slumping to the floor. He quickly got into the motions, cutting wide arcs through the zombies, pointedly ignoring how much gore caked the ground.

He looked over to the rest of the group to see the horde had thinned significantly. In the lull, with the alarm finally silent, Coomer shot him a quick thumbs up that he returned with a tight smile.

Just as it seemed they could catch a breath, a huge zombie burst from the dying flames, its massive body ramming into Gordon and sending him sprawling to the ground. It barrelled past, smashing Bubby into the ground. As Coomer rushed over, the zombie picked up Bubby, then slammed him back down with a crack.

“Bubby!!”

Gordon scrambled to his feet, dropping the axe and pulling out his pistol. He frantically fired six rounds, a few hitting its chest and legs before his gun clicked empty. He threw the empty pistol at its back, though it didn’t even seem to notice. Coomer was punching the zombie, pummeling it with his fists. Even as the huge zombie lurched to one side and fell to the ground still, he kept thumping the monster. 

“Woah, Woah, I think it’s dead, ok?” Gordon put one hand on Coomer’s shoulder and the man turned around, face brightening as he spotted who it was.

“Oh! Hello Gordon.” He greeted, then brushed past him to pull Bubby off the ground.

“How… are you still alive?” Gordon looked over Bubby, stunned, “I swear I heard something _break_.” The old man scowled at him and dusted off his shoulder. They turned to what had caused the injury to begin with.

“What the hell is this?” Gordon exclaimed, gesticulating at the massive zombie.

The three of them looked down at it - it was taller than any of them and heavily-muscled, with one absolutely huge arm that must have been even thicker than Gordon’s torso. There was no way it had been like that before the infection, or that man would have been in the World Records - he wondered if something in the Green Flu had caused this… mutation.

“That is a ‘Charger’ Gordon.” Coomer confidently informed.

“A Charger?” Gordon cast the shorter man a sceptical look.

“Well, it charged at us didn’t it?” He replied as if it were obvious. Gordon blinked once, then sighed. He scooped down to pick up his pistol, which, luckily, seemed undamaged. 

“… I guess that’s as good a name as any.” He shrugged, and gingerly tried to wipe away the grime that had coated his slacks.

“Isn’t there a rule about naming things?” Bubby butt in, wiping down his rifle, “You know, don’t do it or you’ll get attached.”

“That’s for stray animals Bubby. I don’t think I’ll have any problems with getting attached to _that_.” Gordon replied and gestured to the dead zombie before them.

“Fair enough.”

With the area cleared of any _living_ infected, an unsettling silence descended on the trio. They stepped through the now-open gates, crossing the smooth asphalt cautiously. As they reached the line white van Gordon paused, taking a look inside.

It was empty, save a body huddled near the back, damaged beyond recognition. Gordon almost looked away, but underneath was a stained red canvas bag with a white cross that he quickly identified as a medkit. He reached in, trying to ignore the bag’s stickiness as he pulled it out and checked it over. He set it down and unzipped it to look inside - as expected; plasters, gauze, sterile wipes and even burn cream.

“Good find Gordon,” Coomer announced, suddenly appearing beside him.

“Thanks, Coomer… Here, you want to hold on to it?” He zipped it up and offered it to the older man, who nodded and quickly strapped it to his backpack.

The corrugated metal shutters along the side of the depot were all bolted shut, but near the end of the loading bay a small room jutted out from the main building, with a barred metal door. They briskly walked over to it, pushing the heavy door open and stepping inside. 

It was clearly some kind of security office, with a long desk and several blacked-out monitors along with a radio system that must have once been hooked up to the control tower. Behind the desk, two assault rifles, M-16s, leant in a tall reinforced cabinet rack, along with a fistful of magazines. The cabinet had spaces for more rifles so those must have already been taken, whether by the guards themselves or any other survivors, but the ones left behind could be good weapons to supplement Gordon’s pistol. He picked one rifle up, hefting it to his shoulder and testing its weight.

“Oh. This feels _good_.” He looked over the weapon in his hands, “But... how do I use it?”

“Let me show you, Gordon.” Coomer offered. He took the identical gun still in the cabinet, to demonstrate. They stepped back out into the car-park as Coomer pointed out its trigger, safety and how to eject and reload. Gordon copied his motions while Coomer lifted his rifle back the way they came. He fired a few rounds at the open white van they had passed and prompted Gordon to do the same. The young man copied his stance and fired too, slightly surprised by how easily it fired but satisfied to see each shot had managed to hit the vehicle. Bubby nodded in approval but didn’t add anything else to what the other man had said.

“Huh. You explained that really clearly Coomer.” Gordon complimented. He pointed the rifle back to the ground, carefully keeping his finger off the trigger, “You’re a great instructor. Were you a teacher before this?”

“Why, yes Gordon,” he replied proudly, “I taught physical education.”

“Huh? You were a gym teacher?”

“It’s a very respectable subject to teach Gordon,” Coomer informed with a frown.

“Yeah, of course, it’s great,” Gordon quickly reassured, “I just thought… Well, I bet your students liked your lessons a lot.” He turned to the other member of the group, “What about you Bubby? What did you work as?”

“Why would you think I’d tell you?” He snarked.

“Well, I’ll start then. I was a zoologist. I worked in the facility up in the North of town.” Gordon offered.

“Sounds nice, but I didn’t ask.”

This looked like a lost cause.

Gordon slung the M-16 onto his back and they stepped back into the security room, closing the door behind them. With the heavy metal doors at the entrance and exit, this office was almost like a safe-room, that they could barricade up and weather through any zombie attack. _Provided they didn’t starve. Or go crazy from boredom._

Gordon checked the desk, finding only a thin packet of pain pills where he had expected to find. Regardless, he tucked them into his bag, when the desk was suddenly pulled away from him. He looked up to see Bubby and Coomer hauling the table towards the door the group had come through.

“What are you doing?” He asked them, irritated.

“Barricading against any zombies that come in behind us,” Bubby replied as the two finished pulling the desk into place.

“What about any survivors then? They can’t get in here if you do that.” Gordon explained and Bubby shrugged,

“Well, it sucks to be them.”

Coomer ditched his rifle back onto the rack. Passing through the other barred door, the trio came across a small group of zombies that were quickly dispatched with Coomer’s shotgun. The group walked further into the building, the corridors were empty and quiet despite the ominous blood splatters coating the walls. 

They passed a fire exit door, its green light still quietly glowing, possibly running on the dregs of power from the switch they had flipped earlier.

Checking rooms along the way revealed a mix of storage closets stuffed with tightly packed cardboard boxes. They unpacked a few to take a look inside, first coming across only cleaning products, then making a lucky break with a box of snack bars that they quickly stuffed into their bags.

Opening one door, they were startled by half a dozen zombies that rushed out to meet them but Bubby reacted quickly to gun them down with his rifle. He accepted a discrete high five from Coomer, that Gordon caught from the corner of his eye. Despite the tension, he smiled slightly.

There was only one room left at the end of the hallway. Gordon tried the handle, then looked at the sign on the door when it didn’t budge.

 _Biomedical storage, level 2 clearance._ Next to the sign, a small numpad was pinned to the wall, along with a slot for a card. The swipe card system was off, and the door was definitely jammed shut. They hadn’t been able to look through a lot of the warehouse and this seemed like the only way through to the largest portion of it. Shame it was locked - the depot would have to keep its secrets a little longer.

“Can’t go this way,” Gordon informed the group, “Let’s see if we can circle round the back.”

They took the route out of the fire exit, its light now off, and onto a sparse grass patch still surrounded by wire fencing. One direction was blocked off with mounds of piled up bin bags, while the other led around the long edge of the building.

The team followed the fencing to a small courtyard, hemmed in on all sides. It was empty, save for a manhole cover in the centre that had been moved from its place, exposing a pitch-black hole leading into the earth. The fence met the building at the other end of the square with no alley to try and circle around the other side. It was topped with barbs all the way along, and unless Gordon wanted to slice up his hands, it seemed the only way was down.

“Looks like we’re going to have to go down there...” he told them, trailing off nervously. The others didn’t seem as fazed by the idea of crawling down there.

“It’s whatever, let’s go,” Bubby said nonchalantly, “I know this city’s sewers like the back of my hand.” Gordon looked between the two of them as they stood around the open manhole,

“How do you know the way through the sewers Bubby?”

“You don’t want to know,” Bubby replied simply, shrugging, though with a wicked glint in his eye.

“You don’t want to know Gordon.” Coomer parroted diligently.

Gordon looked between the two of them and shrugged, slightly bewildered,

“Lead the way then, I guess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 Expected date... 6th September '20.


	3. Chapter 3

“How do you know the way through the sewers Bubby?”

“You don’t want to know.” Bubby replied simply, shrugging, though with a wicked glint in his eye.

“You don’t want to know Gordon.” Coomer parroted diligently. Gordon looked between the two of them and shrugged, slightly bewildered,

“Lead the way then, I guess.”

The older men went first while Gordon kept a look-out. A few infected meandered past the fencing and he took a few pot-shots at them. He was slowly getting used to aiming these things, and the satisfaction of nailing a good shot was worth expending some of the ammo they had picked up in the safe room.

Over the gunfire he heard the other two call up to him and he slowed to a stop. He slung the rifle over his arm and started down into the dark musty sewers.

It was going well until he got overconfident - one misstep and he slipped off the railing, falling onto his back in the rancid water.

“God, this is gross,” he groaned, “I’m going to get tetanus for sure.” The other two looked down at him from the sewer’s raised side-path, where Gordon was  _ supposed  _ to be standing too.

“I think it might be dysentery.” Bubby suggested.

“Nope, te-ta-nus.” Coomer corrected.

“Doesn’t matter, I don’t want it.” Gordon whined, flicking some grime off his hands.

“You know, you didn’t have to actually get in the sewage itself.” Bubby informed with a smug smile.

“Look-“ Gordon started, then held his words, instead breathing out a frustrated sigh.

He pulled himself to his feet, wiping off his hands as best he could. He checked his new gun for damage - it seemed fine, but he wasn’t exactly trained to tell otherwise.

He waded over to the ladder, just reaching the bottom rung from where he stood. His upper arm strength was truly abysmal but with a huge heave, he managed to pull himself up enough to roll onto the walkway where the other two waited.

He lay there for a moment, panting. Coomer stood patiently, though Bubby did not seem impressed, 

“That was your quota of exercise for the day, huh?”

“Shut up.”

The other two kept their distance from Slimy Gordon, but together they moved along the sewers, Bubby leading the way confidently along the sewer channels. Gordon kept the rear, checking behind him frequently, though nothing materialised. He could hear the groans of the infected through the grates overhead but the sewer itself seemed quiet, even if the air was rancid. The only other sounds were the other two in front of him, bickering quietly at each other.

“Uh, Coomer, Bubby…” Gordon started and the pair looked back at him, “Not to assume anything of course but… Are you two together?”

“No, we’re not!” Bubby cried indignantly, “I’m only sticking with this old fool ‘til we get out of the city. Then I’m ditching him, and you, no questions asked.” He pointed at both Coomer and Freeman in turn. The gym teacher only smiled,

“Bubby, don’t you know you’re old too?” He pointed out, 

With one member flustered, and the other two laughing between themselves, the team didn’t notice a phlegmy hacking noise, quickly getting louder. The source suddenly stumbled out from a pathway to the right, right in front of the group. 

They were tall, stretched out even more with their freakishly long neck. Her whole body seemed to be melting downwards, bright green spit dribbling out from their wide gaping jaw.

A stream of goop erupted from its mouth, spreading rapidly over the already-slippery path. Immediately, they dashed away, ducking out of sight behind the sewer wall.

As Gordon rushed through the goop to catch up, a pain in his feet startled him and he slipped on the ground to his knees. He quickly pulled himself out of the green acid, away from the noxious fumes that bubbled up behind him.

“Ow! What the hell?” He crouched down, and Bubby shot over his head, swiftly taking out the bizarre zombie that had reappeared from its hiding spot. The puddle of goo still sizzled on the ground and he called back to the other two, “Don’t- don’t step in the spit, it’ll burn you!”

At a thumbs up from Coomer, Gordon took the time to look down. The knees of his jeans were in tatters and the soles of his shoes had been burnt through to the skin. If that wasn’t enough, angry welts were already flaring up on the hand he’d used to catch himself.  _ What on Earth? _

He pulled off the ruined trainers with his free hand, resting for a moment on the ground, until the acid seeped between the cracks in the ground and the sizzling sound petered out, letting the other two to come over.

Coomer already had his med-bag out, pulling out the wipes, cooling salve and the bandages. He quickly cleaned it, applied the gel and wrapped it up, with barely a peep out of Gordon the whole time.

By the end, only the plasters remained, and Coomer surprised him by putting them on cuts across his face that he hadn’t even noticed were there.

“Well. That medkit didn’t last very long, did it Coomer?” He joked, wincing as he flexed his fingers.

“It’s fine Gordon,” The gym teacher replied, then tossed the empty bag away with a flourish, “No point keeping it and then not using it.”

Freeman looked down to his feet and sighed, 

“Looks like I really am going to get tetanus now huh?”

Supported somewhat by Coomer, with Bubby keeping a fair distance out of reach, he managed to hobble onwards. They followed the path to the right when a single infected suddenly appeared before them, seeming almost to jump out of the walls, growling at the group.

One shot whacked into its shoulder and it turned away, running down the tunnel. Another blast of ammo followed soon after, hitting them in the back and sending them sprawling to the ground. Gordon immediately rounded on Bubby, 

“Why the hell did you kill him? He was  _ running away _ !” He gestured wildly at the corpse.

“He was still a zombie Gordon.” Bubby answered, not elaborating further.

Inspecting the body, the zombie was surprisingly well kitted out, in heavy combat boots and a utility belt, and still wearing the backpack they died in. A hardcore survivor-type that had become infected recently, it seemed.

Treading carefully across the ground, taking care not to step on anything that seemed particularly vile, Gordon walked forward to spot the small service room slightly set back from the main channel, where the ex-survivor must have come from.

Its door had been completely destroyed, almost certainly by the various zombies, and two half-eaten bodies lay huddled on one side. Possibly the others in the survivor group - maybe even whoever had left the sewer grate open at the depot, judging by the grimy security guard outfits they both wore and the rifles that matched the one Gordon had taken in the safe room.

Finding a slightly dirty, but still intact dust sheet at the back of the room, he spread it over the pair then turned to leave. He paused, looking back at the uniform shoes the two wore.

He valiantly ignored how gross it felt borrowing from a dead body, and laced up the tall brown boots tightly before rejoining the older pair. The now-dead survivors had cleared out the pathway well, because they came across only a few more infected before Bubby stopped them below the right ladder.

Pulling themselves up and out of the manhole, they took a good look around where they had ended up. The main road ahead looked empty, a clear route south to where he needed to go. 

Gordon steeled his nerves and nodded to the other two. 

“Let’s go!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im having a tough time putting in the video game mechanics in a way that makes sense realistically. The player damage when standing in the spitter’s goo is one. And how an entire medkit is used when you heal is another. Haha hopefully I did an ok job.  
> (No due date for chapter 4, I’m sorry)


End file.
